Patience, stealth, and lack thereof
by CassieHalliday
Summary: Alternatively titled: Why Tony Stark holds the first ever lifetime ban from the tactical and logistics division. One shot.


**Hi there, readers! Just a one shot for fun. If you like, check out my OC story, Sparks. Enjoy!**

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"You know the plan, right Stark?" Fury asked through the comms of the Iron Man suit, taking final checks.

"Yep. To the letter." Tony muttered, pulling the helmet down on his head.

"This is an incredibly sensitive operation. You need to follow every part of the plan perfectly. Got it?"

"Whatever. I go in, I get the laptop, I get out." Tony relayed.

In a shield base somewhere, Fury shook his head as he watched what was going on through screens. It was a desperate day when Shield asked Iron Man for help. "Would you care to remember anything more specific?" He retorted.

"Uh... There was something about a... Thing." Tony tried. "I know what I'm doing. Pinky swear."

"Why does that not make me any more confident?" Fury muttered.

"It's okay, Nicky. I'll have this done and back in time for dinner." Tony said happily.

Behind Fury, the tactical and logistics division were holding their collective breath as they watched the screens, tracked comms, and monitored everything from the CCTV of the complex they were entering to the Iron Man suit's power levels. This mission had been planned months in advance, every possibility calculated, every manoeuvre measured to the millimetre. It was as close to perfect as a plan could get. Unfortunately, they had thrown in one very extreme variable: Tony Stark.

It wasn't often they called him in, but every other possible choice was already out on their own missions, and the only option left open to them was to bring him in. The decision had caused widespread panic among the tactical team, and for good reason. "Okay, Stark, you're good to go." Fury reluctantly gave the order.

"Great. See you on the other side!" He called to the jet crew who had been saddled with taking him in, just as he jumped out of the plane, rockets carrying him out over the choppy ocean towards a large, rusted oil rig.

"Can you see your target?" Fury demanded. He got no reply. "Can you see your target?" He repeated.

"The rig? Yeah. Hang on one second, I'm just getting my road music on." Fury threw his hands up indignantly as the sound of 'eye of the tiger' was heard vaguely down the line.

"Stark, this is not the time for messing around, this is an extremely sensitive..." He was cut off by Tony.

"Okay, okay. Not a Rocky fan? Fine." The music stopped abruptly, along with a sigh indicating Tony's feigned disappointment.

"Head towards the west side of the rig. No, west! West!" The director shouted as Tony defiantly flew east.

"Oh, sorry Nicky. I thought you meant _my_ West."

"It's not left and right! East and west are always the same way!" Fury fumed.

"Whatever you say, Nicky."

"Stop calling me that." Fury hissed, through gritted teeth.

"What was that, Nicky?" Tony repeated, even louder this time. "I can't quite hear you."

"I said stop calling me that!" He shouted, frustrated. The line went quiet momentarily.

"Fine." Tony now appeared to be huffing.

Fury gave up and returned to the plan. "Alright, there should be three patrol guards on your side."

"Big, bald and ugly?" Tony suggested, spotting them from the air.

"Yes. Now, they should be changing shift in exactly thirty seconds. Wait for my signal before you make your move." Came the instructions. Immediately, Iron Man flew down at the rig, shooting a large rocket towards the guards.

"What are you doing?!" Fury yelled. "This is supposed to be kept quiet!" The rocket exploded on the side of the massive structure, throwing out a billowing cloud of smoke and fire.

"Sorry. Got bored of waiting." He excused. "Too late now, anyway." He flew down through the grey smoke to the rig, alarms blaring and lights flashing red. "Okay, I'm at a door, now what?"

In the tactics department, the room had been thrown into uproar. The mission was supposed to be covert. Now they had to deal with a complete change of plan, and they hadn't even made it inside the complex. Thirty-five frantic agents were sprinting around the room from computers to screens to maps to whiteboards. Someone screamed in frustration. Fury didn't blame them.

An intern ran up to the director, passing on the rushed new orders. "Stark! You still there?"

"Yep. You're not getting rid of me that easily." Tony smirked.

"Go down the corridor directly in front of you. Do not attract attention."

"I can do that." Confidently, the suited man strode down the corridor, iron feet clanging and echoing loudly on the metal floor. Fury sighed again. If he wasn't already bald, he'd be losing hair with stress, he thought to himself.

"Can you try to be a little quieter?" He grimaced.

"Whoops. Sorry." He stopped for a moment, then began walking again, at least a little bit quieter now.

"The third door on your left should be labelled storage."

"I see it." Tony confirmed.

"Go in. The laptop should be in there." Fury was calming down slowly. Maybe they could recover this operation.

Four machine gun-wielding guards appeared on the screen, jumping out from nowhere and sending a hail of bullets at Tony. The whole room erupted again as they tried to determine where the threat had come from and if there was anyone else, at the same time as throwing accusations at anyone and everyone else over whose responsibility it was to track the CCTV.

"Everybody shut up!" Fury demanded, finally losing it. "I don't care whose fault it was, fix the damn situation!" The room fell silent as the team looked up in fear at the director. "I said get to it!" He yelled again.

"It's okay, I got this." Tony boasted. He raised an arm, flashing out his entire array of weaponry to his attackers, bullets, rockets and lasers included. The attackers promptly scrambled in fear. There was a sigh of relief around the room, and Tony chuckled to himself. "Were you nerds worried about me?" He laughed. "I'm flattered!"

"Back to work." Fury insisted. "The door."

"Going in now. Opening the door now. Stepping into the room now. Scanning area now..."

"We don't need a running commentary, Stark." Fury groaned.

"Just trying to be professional. Do spies really not do that?"

"No, Stark. They don't. Now shut up and find the laptop." The assembled team watched anxiously as Tony rifled through piles of paper and knocked down shelves and made a general mess in his clumsy, robotic attempt at a room search. He found nothing.

"There's no laptop in here, guys." Tony told them. "Did you get the wrong room, or..." He turned around to see a burly Russian in the doorway, one hand pointing a gun at him and the other clutching a laptop. He smiled evilly.

"Mr. Stark." He purred. "I have been waiting a long time for this."

"I know, I know. I'm amazing. Do you want an autograph, or what?" Tony answered drily.

"Funny. But you have no power over me. I am going to use the information on this laptop to destroy..." His monologue ended suddenly as he was punched by Iron Man, sending him straight into unconsciousness. Everyone was speechless.

"What? I don't have time to hear the master plan. Come on, I have to get home. It's date night."

No one replied. They weren't sure whether to applaud or complain. "I got the laptop. Should I drop it in the ocean or what?"

"No, uh... Bring it back here." Even Fury was in a slight state of shock.

"Gotcha. Heading back now." With that, Iron Man lifted up into the air, laptop held tightly in one hand.

"Okay, people. Thanks for coming in tonight, I guess you can all go home now..." Fury informed the bemused tactics department.

"Uh... Nicky?" Tony's voice was, for once, quietly nervous as it reached through the comms.

"What?"

"I might have just dropped the laptop in the ocean."

Someone fainted. Someone else quit on the spot.

Fury simply resolved to himself that he would never allow Tony Stark within twenty miles of a mission again. Ever.


End file.
